


How You Use It

by variative



Series: A Little Rib For Their Pleasure [1]
Category: Saturday Night Live
Genre: Bisexual Character, Hook-Up, M/M, Open Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 04:14:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19760383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/variative/pseuds/variative
Summary: Michael gave him a look, one of his particular looks that involved a lot of eyebrow, and Colin wheezed with laughter that he struggled to control for a moment, taking a deep breath before he went on, “You really think he’s…”Michael’s eyebrows made a second and equally expressive bid for his hairline, his mouth pursing into a smirk. “Yes homo, Jo-bro?”“God, never do that again,” Colin said, muscling an expression of disgust through the grin that kept trying to take over his face. “Also, have you heard how bad he is at sex? From the horse’s mouth, Che. I’m not sure why I would do that to myself.”“It doesn’t matter what he packs if he’s the one taking it,” Michael pointed out, leering. Colin, true to form, blushed.





	How You Use It

**Author's Note:**

> what can i say, it's a fun little dynamic.

Weekend Update went well, Colin thought; he was feeling good as he went back to the green room with Michael, which didn’t always happen. For a moment everything seemed normal as he opened the door: Aidy was lying on a couch with her head in Heidi’s lap and an arm over her eyes, Heidi was stroking Aidy’s hair with her head tipped back against the wall and her eyes shut, Kyle was sitting on the floor with his phone, Alex was leaning against the vending machine like it was the only thing keeping him up.  Everything as usual, and then Colin’s gaze went to the far corner of the room, and he saw the Guy.

Update feature guests were invited to the afterparty as a matter of course. It had never before registered for Colin that the Guy Who Just Bought A Boat always left straight after his spot, waving off any cursory invites that got floated his way with the incomprehensible string of butchered slang and absurd nicknames that he seemed to consider normal human speech—until now, and there the Guy Who Just Bought A Boat was, lingering awkwardly by the water cooler, and leaving Colin to retrospectively realize that this had never, ever happened before and he wasn't sure how he felt about it happening now. The Guy Who Just Bought A Boat had taken his sweater off and draped it over his shoulders, the arms tied under the open collar of his Oxford shirt. It looked ridiculous. He was trying to talk to Beck; he’d probably misidentified him as A Dude, someone of a kind to the Guy, which was the latest in what Colin suspected was a lifelong chain of severe mistakes.

“Oh my god,” Michael said into Colin’s ear, pulling him away from the door so that they were mostly shielded from the rest of the room by the humming bulk of the vending machines. Michael’s arm came across Colin’s shoulders and rested heavy. “Lassie, your Timmy’s in the well.”

Colin scowled. “Really? You too, Che?”

“He’s your people, Jost. Go talk to him.” Michael jostled him and whispered conspiratorially, “I bet he’s waiting just for you.”

Colin’s first instinct was to shrug Michael off, but he took a moment and actually considered it, leaning back into Michael’s embrace and observing as The Guy Who Just Bought A Boat said something that made Beck visibly nauseous. “You think so?”

“You think he’s ever come up with even one nickname for me? He’s obsessed with you, dude. He’s gotta spend _time_ crafting those.”

“I guess,” Colin said. “But I mean, and don’t take this the wrong way, but maybe he just doesn’t like you… in particular.”

Michael’s laugh was warm and mocking in Colin’s ear. “Why’s that, Jost?”

“Well,” Colin said, “He can probably sense that if he tried it you wouldn’t like it very much.”

“True,” Michael said. “Why else…?”

“We-ell… he might be… you know.”

“Oh, do tell,” Michael said. His fingers curled against Colin’s lapel.

Colin hemmed and hawed and felt Michael tremble with silent laughter. “I mean, it might be… that he’s… you know… the kind of guy who buys a boat.”

Michael cackled, which made Colin laugh too. It was basically Pavlovian. “Trump’s real electorate: guys who bought boats.”

“Probably true. Back to the previous question, though,” Colin said, turning even closer to Michael as if their words could possibly carry across the noisy, crowded space. Michael gave him a look, one of his particular looks that involved a lot of eyebrow, and Colin wheezed with laughter that he struggled to control for a moment, taking a deep breath before he went on still giggling a bit, “You really think he’s…”

Michael’s eyebrows made a second and equally expressive bid for his hairline, his mouth pursing into a smirk. “Yes homo, Jo-bro?”

“God, never do that again,” Colin said, muscling an expression of disgust through the grin that kept trying to take over his face. “Also, have you heard how bad he is at sex? From the horse’s mouth, Che. I’m not sure why I would do that to myself.”

“It doesn’t matter what he packsif he’s the one taking it,” Michael pointed out, leering. Despite his own best efforts, Colin stayed true to form and blushed. “Look, I don’t really know if he is or not, but that doesn’t mean you can’t shoot your shot. You’re the one dating Scarlett Johansson, you have _nothing_ to lose. Worst case scenario, he gets so freaked out that he never comes back.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice. Still,” Colin said, pouting, “I think that arrangement is more for her than for me.” It was just in case; Scarlett was in Japan for a _while_. A girl had needs, obviously, and Colin wasn’t insecure about their relationship or anything. Maybe a little insecure about himself; he wasn’t stupid enough to be jealous, and neither was he too stupid to feel a little lacking sometimes.

“Make it for you,” Michael said, and snorted and shook his head. “You _pussy._ Go be the bisexual playboy boss you never had the balls to become, Jost.”

“Damn, when you put it like that I think I have to fuck this guy,” Colin said, feeling a fun little stirring of confidence and lust deep in his core, and peered around the vending machines and saw that the Guy Who Just Bought A Boat was nowhere to be seen.

#

He’d let go of the loose resolve he’d had to approach The Guy with some relief; there was a part of him that just really wanted to wipe that idiotic smug smile off the be-boated son of a bitch’s face, a bigger part of Colin that wanted to shake him until he talked like a real person, or better yet said nothing at all, but there was also a part of him that didn’t want to rock the straight monogamous palatable-to-middle-America boat. Or—fuck, not a boat. Whatever. The point was, just because he was a comedian didn’t mean he had to be brave or daring or wild. He could fall into the rut. He could bow to the status quo every once in a while. After all, there was a reason, beside the fact that he was white and had hair that did that, that he had the image he did on Update. 

The bottom line was, he could be a proud bisexual man who didn’t talk about it or act on it—a proud and silent bisexual who had sex with men, _in college,_ and considered dating men, but not _openly,_ and who always felt a bit guilty and stuck every time June rolled around _._

“You’re a sorry sonofabitch, Jost,” Michael murmured under the chatter of the control room. Onstage, the last sketch was gearing up. “Middle America, really? You absolutely have to nail this dude. You have to nail _a_ dude. I may not understand the urge myself, but look what you’re turning into, man.”

Colin dragged his hands down his cheeks. “I know, I can literally feel myself becoming my father more and more every single day. One day I’m going to wake up and really believe that Ryan was just a _phase!_ Oh, God.”

Michael patted him on the back. “Fifteen more minutes, baby. Then you can go get him.”

“I want you to know that that _is_ making it worse,” Colin told him. “So, so much worse.”

#

But afterwards, the Guy Who Just Bought A Boat was just as absent as he ever was; Colin would have thought that he’d imagined the guy standing around after the segment, if it weren’t for Michael, making eye contact with him across the stage with a shrug. Colin pushed across the stage until he was finally close enough to talk to Michael.

“I’m gonna just go home tonight,” he told him, bending close to be heard over the noise of the band. “I just left my laptop charger in the office and then I’m out of here.”

“No luck with your boat man, huh?” Michael’s voice was almost too sympathetic.

“I’m just tired,” Colin said, a little defensive to his own ears. He switched tactics. “Are you going to the afterparty?”

“Just for a bit.”

“Alright.” Colin nodded, and then reached up and hugged Michael, whose arms came around him agreeably. “I’ll see you Monday.”

“See you,” Michael said, letting him go with a little finger-waggling wave.

Colin took care of the rest of his goodnights and goodbyes with as much efficiency as possible, but it was always hard to detangle from the milling and chatting that happened on the stage post-show, and he was moving against the current, trying to get to the stairs backstage so he could go up to the writer’s offices. Just in case he hadn’t already been feeling burned out on company and ready to go home, by the time he got into the cool quiet of the darkened offices he was all over again.

He was passing by the writer’s room when he caught a shadow out of the corner of his eye that didn’t belong.

“You’re really not supposed to be up here,” Colin said, his voice loud in the silence.

The Guy Who Just Bought A Boat looked up at him from the window. His profile was bathed in the light of the cityscape outside. “Sorry, Co-Jo,” he said, his voice twice as loud as Colin’s and roughly one million percent more abrasive. The Guy flashed a queasy grin. “Just wanted to have a look around. Get away from the cray-cray.”

Colin wandered a little closer, his hands in his pockets and his eyes on the glittering city outside the window. He wasn’t sure where he wanted to go with this, and he knew the Guy Who Just Bought A Boat, like his fellow Update guests, was not particularly welcome up here. But Colin felt a little bit sympathetic, despite himself.“I know what you mean. It can get pretty chaotic.”

“Totes magotes,” the Guy Who Just Bought A Boat agreed. Colin ground his teeth. “Say,” the Guy went on, in a tone of voice Colin immediately hated. “I gotta spell it to ya, Coste , Coastal, C-Jost-A.L., Colin Jost At Large, you and Mr. Che seem like two bros in a coze relozje.”

Colin shut his eyes. “A what?”

“Come on, Col, coze relozje, a comfy relashe. Two lil’ neuggies (news buggeruggies) snug in a mug, the pair of ya.”

“He’s a good friend,” Colin said warily, looking at the Guy. He’d put his sweater back on, Colin noticed. It was cooler up here.

An ill-looking smile crossed the Guy’s face, the scarlet fever of facial expressions. “Pretty chilly, Colin, calling such a close cup’ exclusies cordies.”

“We’re not a couple,” Colin sighed, hearing exasperation spill into his tone to a degree that teetered on the fine edge of mean. “And I have no _fucking_ clue what the rest of that even meant.”

“Exclusies cordial, dude, no romance in the bromance” the Guy said, and Colin jerked his head up and stared, baffled, because for once the Guy didn’t sound even a little bit condescending, even when he added, “Keep up.” Colin couldn’t figure out what the hell he wanted.

“Do… do you think there should be?”

That sordid grin flickered again; for a man with such good hair and teeth and skin and proportions and BMI, the Guy Who Just Bought A Boat looked stunningly unwell. “IDK, Jost. Seems only natural for a pair of cuddly co-woes as yourselves.”

It was late, and Che had been planting ideas in Colin’s head. But he could have sworn that the weird tone that had replaced the condescension was, just maybe, a weird, twitchy swirled-up combination of anger and longing that Colin thought smelled a lot like jealousy.

And even if Michael was wrong about this, Michael was right about two other things: one, that Colin had practically nothing to lose, and two, that he really, really needed this.

Colin laughed; he couldn’t help it, and he felt vaguely, absurdly guilty, even though after a frozen split-second the Guy laughed as well, without opening his mouth at all. _He can open it for other things,_ Colin thought wildly, and said sharply, “I’m not fucking Michael.”

The Guy’s two rows of pearly whites abruptly unclenched and the smile fell off his face for an instant before he was trying to pull it back on. Like skinny jeans onto legs too soon after a shower, it wouldn’t go. “Just trying to sus the situashe,” he said, too loud. “A little suspish that was lurking since day _numero un_. Sorry to pry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Colin said, letting out a slow, calming exhale. He didn’t try to explain or excuse himself; he didn’t think he could have if he’d tried. He felt completely unmoored, he didn’t remember how to do this at all, and what’s more he had no idea whatsoever what he was doing in the first place. They stood in silence for a moment. It was so quiet that Colin could hear the Guy’s light, soft breaths.

Colin swallowed and licked his lips, as conspicuous as clearing his throat, and asked, “So, what are you up to for the rest of the night?”

The Guy shifted and shrugged, dancing with sudden nervous energy. “I dunno, bro. There was this little thing, this _minuit_ rotobo rostasto.”

Colin shook his head. “A _what?”_

“A midnight rooftop bar rosé tasting.” The Guy ducked his head and didn’t make a single comment on Colin not understanding his implausible slang.

Colin checked his phone. “It’s almost one,” he said without thinking.

“Guess not, then,” the Guy said, and tried to grin again. It slid off just like the last one.

“Come home with me,” Colin said.

The Guy Who Just Bought A Boat swallowed loudly in the silence and tried for the smile again. Colin felt a sharp stab of pity and revulsion—personal, not physical, obviously. He felt angry at the ridiculous, pathetic man for being smug and condescending and having literally nothing underneath, and for, frankly, being the kind of guy who _wished_ he was the kind of guy Colin had known in college, and because Colin really wanted to sleep with him, and because he could pretty much picture how it was going to go, and how little he would enjoy any part of it until the part where he was railing the Guy so goddamn hard he forgot how to be the vile insecure Ken doll he used as a personality, and also words.

“Abso-tutely, my main man,” the Guy Who Just Bought A Boat said, having managed to reassemble himself somewhat.

So Colin could look forward to that part.

#

The trip back to Colin’s apartment was not the awkward silence that he had hoped for. The Guy talked nonstop, about everything and nothing, Colin had to assume, since he didn’t understand a word of it. He tried to tune it out, but something about the pitch of the Guy’s voice drilled straight through the rumble and commotion of the subway directly to Colin’s ear. By the time he unlocked the door to his apartment he was ready for something drastic.

“Sweet little pad, CoJo,” the Guy said appreciatively, looking around.

“It’s a nice place,” Colin agreed tightly. He nudged a pair of Scarlett’s heels until they lined up neatly against the wall; he meant to put them away every time he tripped over them in the foyer. Then he realized that something had changed: the Guy had fallen silent. Colin looked up at him. His expression was vague in the dark hall, and he was standing very still, his fingers nervously plucking at the cuffs of his sweater.

The Guy said quietly, “Colin, is this…?”

“Yes,” Colin said. He felt hot suddenly; he stepped closer.

The Guy huffed, shifted and spread his hands with a weird smirk that looked more like a grimace. His eyes gleamed in the faint city light coming in through the window. “I’m… I’m not good…”

“I _know_ ,” Colin said meanly, because he was tired of hearing about it, so he stepped forward and backed the Guy up against the wall and kissed him. 

Really, he wasn’t bad at it. But maybe that was because he was just moaning and opening his mouth and letting Colin do whatever he wanted, not remotely trying to give any of his own back. For a moment Colin was afraid that the Guy was just gonna lay there like a dead fish because Colin had read the room completely and catastrophically wrong, but the Guy’s hands locked around Colin’s back like he was afraid he was going to change his mind at any second and try to get away, and he shivered and made a sweet little noise when Colin pressed up against him, pinning him against the wall. The Guy groaned and clutched at him, his stubble rasping against Colin’s, his body pressed strong and solid along his front, things Colin hadn’t thought to miss for such a long goddamn time. Colin pushed his hands up under the Guy’s sweater, dragged his shirt out of his belt and got his hands on the long stretch of his back that was just as smooth and warm and good as anyone could ask for. The one thing that could definitely be said for the Guy Who Just Bought A Boat: he kept fit.

Colin broke away, breathing hard, but he didn’t go far, just enough to ask, “What’s your name again?” so tactless that he felt a little secondhand shame at being able to ask that without even a stirring of guilt.

“Rich,” the Guy gasped, apparently unconcerned that Colin had never bothered to learn his name.

And never would; teach him to ask personal questions. “Fucking of course it is,” Colin groaned. “Let’s go, Richard,” he said, and dragged the Guy Who Just Bought A Boat into his bedroom.

Things progressed smoothly from there, from making out in Colin’s room to making out on Colin’s bed, to shedding clothes right and left, until Colin got the Guy’s pants open and barked out a laugh.

“Wow, you weren’t kidding,” he said. It was funny and tragic because it wasn’t like, deformed or anything. It was just small; the only really bad thing about the Guy’s dick was that it somehow visibly suggested that its owner had no damn clue what to do with it. It was the kind of dick that men needlessly spent their whole lives compensating for in all the wrong ways.

The Guy heaved for breath and laughed in a way that sounded like he was dying. “Hey, man, don’t worry about it,” Colin told him, massaging the Guy’s thigh with one hand, digging his thumb in and kneading until the Guy twitched and stopped grinning. Colin winked—actually winked, God, he could feel his soul corroding—and added, “In this situation it’s kind of a non-issue.”

“What do you mea— _oh!”_ the Guy said, as Colin leaned down and put the whole thing in his mouth, easy as anything, and God, it was almost kind of fun. The Guy squirmed and moaned, way too appreciative of the easiest blowjob Colin had ever given in his life, and with a little encouraging put his hands in Colin’s hair and got it all messed up while Colin spread out between the Guy’s legs and fucking went to _town_. The Guy tried to thrust into Colin’s mouth at first, which he had to put a stop to because it was so pathetic that it nearly killed the mood. He pinned the Guy’s hips in the nick of time, and sucked and licked and teased him until the Guy was babbling, saying, “Oh god oh god oh god Colin I’m gonna come,” at which point Colin pulled off and shook his head, and stroked the Guy’s abs and pressed wet sucking kisses up and down the insides of his thighs until, despite his protests, he’d cooled off some. And then Colin did it again. And again.

“Jesus, please,” the Guy was whining, when Colin let his dick slip out of his mouth for the third time without getting him off. “I’m so _close_. Jost, Colin, please.”

“Not yet,” Colin said, and he got up and put his mouth right next to the Guy’s ear and said softly, “I wanna fuck you.”

“Oh _God,”_ the Guy said, “Oh my God, I can’t.”

Colin leaned back to look him in the face, combed a damp lock of hair off the Guy’s forehead. “Can’t or don’t want to?”

The Guy’s eyes fluttered shut. “I’m just—I’m just—I—oh God, just do it.”

Colin reached over and fumbled in the nightstand, couldn’t find what he was looking for. He hissed impatiently and got up, flipping the light on and digging past Kleenex and a notebook and seven hundred hair ties and three million bobby pins and an unopened copy of _Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance._ Finally he laid hands on lube and a condom and climbed back into bed, but he paused there, flicking the condom against the Guy’s jaw. He looked up at Colin with big eyes and a flush that went right down his chest. 

“You sure?” Colin asked. “Last chance to back out, Dick.”

The Guy swallowed and said, “I’m sure. It’s just—” He took a quick breath, flushed even more severely, and said tightly, “I’m sure.”

Colin grinned and kissed him, braced his hand on the guy’s chest and felt his heart pounding. “Easy, tiger,” he murmured. “It’ll be good, you’ll see.”

“Iknowiknowiknow,” blurted the Guy. He clutched at Colin’s shoulders and mumbled, “Just—might not… last…”

“You’ll do fine,” Colin said, patting his chest.

He was going to do more than fine, Colin realized ten minutes later, halfway into the Guy and panting already. He was gonna do _great._ Colin ran his lube-sticky fingers up the underside of the Guy’s dick, playing idly with its small stiff length and drawing circles underneath the head while the Guy shifted and groaned and opened up for him little by little, and then Colin realized he’d made a terrible mistake, and it was already too late: the Guy jerked and cried out and came in a rush, spurting onto Colin’s fingers while his hole clenched unbearably around Colin. He gritted his teeth and held on, and then the Guy sank back into the pillows and relaxed all over, and completely by accident Colin slid in straight to the hilt.

They groaned together, Colin out of disappointment as much as anything. He got himself under control and then tried to ease back, only to get brought up short as the Guy clamped down on Colin’s arm with a grip like freaking iron.

_“Don’t”,_ the Guy said. His eyes squeezed shut. “Just fucking—just fucking wait.”

“Dude, it’s fine,” Colin tried to tell him, but the Guy wouldn’t let him go.

“I said just _fucking wait,_ Colin,” he snapped, his voice going high-pitched. His grip on Colin’s arm was like a vice, and he took three heaving breaths and then said, “Okay. Okay. Just take it easy at first, okay?”

“Oh my God,” Colin said, kind of strangled, and tried to pull out again, because this was insane. Fully and completely insane, which was a judgement Colin was qualified to make—he knew crazy, he’d met Michael’s neighbors.

The Guy moved with him, not letting him get away by an _inch,_ and shrilled, “Would you _just! Fuck_ me!”

“You’re fucking insane,” Colin said flatly, and pushed the leg of the Guy Who Just Bought A Boat up onto his shoulder and did as he was told.

It was really, really good. Colin worked up a goddamn sweat, and The Guy Who Just Bought A Boat came twice more, swearing and shuddering and still goddamn talking the first time, and completely silently the second time, his teeth sunk deep in his lip and his head flung back into the pillows. He’d been wordless for a long time at that point, roughly since when Colin slowed his pace to long rolling thrusts and wrapped his hand around the Guy’s dick and worked him just as slow and rolling.  That had got the Guy moaning in a constant stream of noise, not a single word in any human language coming out of his mouth, and then Colin had picked up the pace again and focused on just pounding the Guy until his eyes fluttered shut and his mouth was hanging open and no sounds were coming out of it at all. Colin also found himself saying ridiculous things at that point, things like “God, look at you,” and “Come on, baby,” which was only because he was so ready by then it almost hurt. He held on furiously because he was not gonna be the guy here who blew it prematurely, as much as he goddamn well deserved it, and then just as he was starting to despair the Guy groaned once and bit down on his lip and arched up, flushed and wanton and still not coming. 

Colin grabbed him, the whole of it swallowed up in his hand, and snarled, “Christ, you were fucking _made_ for this, weren’t you?” The Guy jerked like Colin had stuck him with a cattle prod, and finally fucking came: his body clenched around Colin in pulses, his dick spat out the last it had to give and he just kept shuddering, and Colin kept fucking him, wave after wave until he couldn’t stand it anymore and finally, _finally_ let go.

#

Colin rolled off the Guy and stared blankly upwards. He didn’t want to move. He wasn’t sure that he could. “Jesus Christ,” he said.

The Guy Who Just Bought A Boat didn’t really respond. He just sort of emitted a low wheezing noise. 

Colin reached down and clapped him on the thigh. “You did good,” he said, and, horrifically, meant it. The Guy put his arm over his eyes. Colin gave him a little squeeze, like, _easy there cowboy,_ or whatever, and dropped his hand onto the bed.

After a few sweet moments of silence, the Guy opened his mouth to speak. Colin braced himself. The Guy said, his voice faint and hoarse, “You should come out on my boat some time?”

“No,” Colin said. 

“Okay,” the Guy said. He was quiet for a minute or so, an awkwardly long time when Colin knew he was going to come up with something else. At last he said, “I think I’m straight, anyway?”

Colin wondered if everything he said was going to be a question from now on. “Find a girl who’s into pegging,” he suggested.

“Pegging,” the Guy said doubtfully.

Colin groaned, but hauled himself up. His pants were on the floor; he fished his phone out of the back pocket and came back to the bed. He handed it to the Guy while the search results were still loading, and then lay down again.

“Oh,” the Guy said a few seconds later. He scrolled a little. Then he scrolled a bit more. _“Oh.”_

“Mm-hm,” Colin said, and closed his eyes. He felt _great._

Outside, the city that never slept hummed on, cars and sirens wailing and the occasional honk, the occasional human yell. Inside Colin’s bedroom, it was perfectly, blissfully quiet.

**Author's Note:**

> here's a little disclaimer: this is a work of fiction and is inspired by certain characters and personas. it does not refer to, is not representative of, and is not intended to resemble any real events or persons living or deceased. isn't that fun!


End file.
